


not so late after all

by skittidyne



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Swap, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12702270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittidyne/pseuds/skittidyne
Summary: Tadashi grabs the phone that isn’t his on the nightstand and opens up the camera.It is absolutely, inarguably, 100% Tsukishima Kei’s face squinting back at him.(( or: tadashi and kei wake up in each other's bodies, and in trying to figure out how to go back to normal, must act like each other for a day despite how easily distracted they are ))





	not so late after all

**Author's Note:**

> (( this is the fic i wrote for the [tsukkiyama zine](http://tsukkiyamazine.tumblr.com/)!! it was a blast to work for, and i'm lovingly touching my own copy while uploading this. happy yamatsukki day, everyone, hope you enjoy a smidge of bodyswap! ))

Tadashi wakes to sunlight in his face.

He does the usual I’m Not Waking Up dance—scrunches his nose, tosses his head around, general displeased noises—and realizes that his pillow is too soft to be comfortable anymore. He cracks open an eye, vision blurry from sleep, and notices that the covers next to him are blue.

Huh. The futon he’d fallen asleep in had a white blanket.

Tadashi stares, vision not improving despite how he tries to blink the drowsiness away, and realizes that he’s in Kei’s bed.

Well.

Not the first time he’s squished in there with him, but he doesn’t remember doing it. Had he sleepwalked? There’s no body heat next to him (disappointing), but he hopes Kei would remember at what point they crawled in together. It hasn’t happened in awhile. They haven’t shared a bed since—

Since before the confession, at least.

Ever since, they’ve been hesitant to broach topics like that, and Tadashi certainly isn’t going to mention bed-sharing first. Kei is shockingly shy about PDA (and affection in general) and Tadashi knows he’s a cuddler. Doesn’t seem like a good mixture to happen inadvertently, so Tadashi sits up with alarm overpowering the remaining dredges of sleepiness.

There’s something even odder than waking up in the wrong bed. The guest futon is still on the floor. There’s someone still in it.

Tadashi thinks, briefly, that they _somehow_ traded places during the night—maybe he was such an aggressive snuggler that Kei made a tactical retreat—but no, that’s definitely wrong. The person sleeping on the floor has dark hair and his favorite orange shirt.

Tadashi blinks still-out-of-focus eyes and rubs a hand over his face. His hair seems… shorter.

He finds glasses on the nightstand, and, with something stronger than alarm curdling in his stomach, he slides them onto his face. Everything becomes clearer, save for a blur near the corner; upon inspection, he finds a thumb print on the lens itself.

Tadashi grabs the phone that isn’t his on the nightstand and opens up the camera.

It is absolutely, inarguably, 100% Tsukishima Kei’s face squinting back at him.

“This is a dream,” he croaks, and god, that’s Kei’s voice.

The person on the floor makes a grumpy sound.

“Tsukki,” Tadashi hisses, and _wow_ that sounds weird. He slides out of bed and nudges the very tip of Kei’s—the person’s elbow. “Tsukki, wake up. _Now_.”

“Mmgh,” comes the ever-grumpier response.

“ _Kei_ ,” Tadashi says. That finally gets a reaction; the person in the futon raises their head, blinking and scowling. Sleepy, initially, but Tadashi _watches_ the dawning realization of the change in vision. And the dark bangs in their peripherals, then the adjusted angle from the floor, and then, the person pans their new gaze right up to meet Tadashi’s ever more horrified one.

“What.”

 

\--

 

They skip morning practice and make it to lunch before getting caught.

It’s Yachi, jittery as always, who tracks them down. She’s genuinely concerned when she asks, “Are you two feeling alright?”

She addresses Kei, which is problematic since he freezes like a deer in headlights. Tadashi isn’t certain how to salvage this, so he opts for maximum damage control. “He was just feeling sick this morning. We’ll see you at afternoon practice.”

She doesn’t ask why ‘Kei’ wouldn’t have come without Tadashi, but her worry grows. Tadashi does not have the energy to have this conversation when _he’s_ not the one she keeps looking up toward.

In a stroke of genius, Kei stands up and croaks, “Bathroom,” like he’s going to be sick.

Yachi scrambles out of their way and they bolt. Tadashi waits until out in the hallway to snort into his hand, and before he can laugh too much, Kei yanks him into a supply closet.

“Smooth, Tsukki,” he can’t help but snark. The door clicks shut behind them.

They’re dunked into relative darkness; the only light is from the crack beneath the door. He can see the look of uncharacteristic annoyance on his own face, and Tadashi is left thinking how odd it is to see that kind of scowl on himself. “I don’t see how you can call me that with a straight face,” Kei mutters.

Tadashi blinks a couple times. “Tsukki?” Kei nods and swipes his bangs out of his eyes. It’s something Tadashi has noticed him pick up; he doesn’t seem equipped to handle longer hair any better than Tadashi can deal with glasses. “I’ve called you that for years. I’m probably more used to it…? Should I stop?”

“…I don’t mind. From you. Saying it myself is one of the more awkward things today, though.” Kei scrubs a hand over his face, rubbing at his freckles. Well, Tadashi’s freckles. Possessives are difficult today.

So is staring at his own face in this half-light. They’re squeezed close together, and under other circumstances Tadashi’s mind may have wandered over the implications. Now, he just looks down and marvels over this sight. Does Kei _always_ notice this height difference?

“—you even listening?”

“Yes,” Tadashi replies reflexively. “…Mostly. Sorry, Tsukki.”

Kei makes a particularly pained expression. “We aren’t very good at acting like each other.”

Tadashi raises both eyebrows. Kei’s dour face doesn’t change, so, in perfect imitation, he tells him, “Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

That gets a little smile. (Emphasis: _little_.) “So _you_ can act like _me_ , hm?”

“I’ve done a better job so far than you. I just have to sneer a lot, right?”

“Alright, that _may_ be true,” Kei admits. Tadashi can’t help but do his best Tsukishima Kei Smirk(™) in triumphant response. “But how do you act all… _you_ all the time?”

“Me…?”

“Friendly. Not sarcastic. _Nice_ , I guess.”

Tadashi sighs. He’s aware of others view them, especially in contrast; most people seem to overlook that he’s snickering at most of Kei’s commentary. He just usually doesn’t have the courage to voice those snide little asides himself. “Try smiling for me, Tsukki.”

Kei shoots him a look that asks _Do I have to_ , but, after a moment, he breaks into a surprisingly sincere smile.

Tadashi’s heart stutters in his chest—it looks so _different_ from normal. He knows what his smile looks like, and he knows what Kei’s smile looks like, too. And now he’s seeing Kei’s smile on _his_ face and it does _very_ strange things to him.

“Is it narcissistic to want to kiss myself?” Tadashi whispers.

Kei scowls, red appearing high on his freckled cheeks. _That_ is definitely Tadashi’s. His darker complexion doesn’t lead to the full-faced flushes that Kei exhibits.

“I don’t want to think about kissing myself,” Kei replies. “I think we should figure out how to—alright, give _me_ a crash course in Yamaguchi Acting. Or, better yet, how to _fix this_.”

“I don’t have any more ideas now than I did earlier, okay? Let’s just get through today.”

“Now that we’re committed to afternoon practice…”

“We’re both volleyball players, and it’s just practice! I think we can handle it, Tsukki,” Tadashi declares.

 

\--

 

They can’t handle it.

Eight centimeters is close enough to prevent too many physical mishaps, but they’re hardly fifteen minutes into laps before Hinata comes over to jog next to Kei. And he starts _talking_.

Apparently he’s picked up some thread from a day or two ago, something about Kageyama and Ennoshita and movies. Kei is _quite_ happy enough to let him yammer on on his own, but there are enough pauses to inform Kei that he _does_ expect more than the occasional grunt.

Tadashi, roped into jogging next to Nishinoya and Azumane, snickers whenever he sees how blatantly uncomfortable Kei is.

Which, to be fair, is natural Tsukishima Kei behavior.

So Tadashi blends in, Kei flounders, and he’s all too strongly reminded that this is a little _too_ on-the-nose compared to their normal interactions with the team. It doesn’t improve his mood, and eventually, he _tch_ s a little too hard in Hinata’s general direction. Hinata gets the message and skitters away with a look so honestly confused that Kei ends up feeling guilty instead of relieved.

It’s after their first practice set that Sugawara approaches him. “I’m sorry my serves were off today,” Kei says, heading off the obvious. _He_ certainly doesn’t know how to do jump float serves. (Tadashi doesn’t quite understand the finesse of blocking, either, and that’d been hilarious. Even if it meant he had to watch himself get a spike to the face and then fall on his butt with a sound that could only be described as a _yip_. Nishinoya and Tanaka had both fallen over laughing.)

“Well, at least you seem aware of it,” Sugawara replies, taken aback. “It’s just practice, so no harm, no foul. I actually wanted to ask if you were feeling alright. Did you and Tsukishima have some sort of fight…?”

Oh. He’d noticed something up with _both_ of them. Irritatingly astute. “No, not really,” Kei replies.

Sugawara must mistake his grimace for some sort of nerves, because next he says, “Friends fight sometimes, but it’s not the end of the world! I’m sure you two will work things out. He keeps looking over at you, so he’ll probably apologize soon.”

_Why do I have to be the one to apologize?_ Kei wonders, annoyed. “Right. Um… thanks?” The words come out awkward, but Sugawara lights up with a beam anyway. Kei is treated to one of his too-hard slaps on the back.

After that practice, walking home alone together is a huge relief. Kei goes to adjust his glasses, and of course just ends up bumping his nose.

Tadashi snickers. “Smooth, Tsukki.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mumbles, face hot. “I thought practice would last forever. I’m still not used to any of this, and we can’t keep skipping practice.”

“I guess I can give you some pointers on serves, but…”

“But they’re going to notice. Sugawara spoke to me about it today,” he finishes and rubs at the bridge of his nose again, where his glasses _should_ be. Tadashi makes an affirmative noise, head cocked in thought. “Alright, so… No more school, no more practice. We have to do something about this _tonight_.”

“What d’you think we should do, though?” Tadashi sighs. He accidentally bumps his fingers against Kei’s glasses, then frowns at the smear he makes on the lens. Kei is drawn to the way his lips purse in his pout.

It’s _definitely_ weird to look at his own face that way. But it’s undeniably Tadashi’s (admittedly endearing) pout, one he’s seen more times than he can count—usually on a different face. So it’s alright if he thinks it’s cute, right…? “I don’t know,” Kei replies and looks away from the sight. It’s his last defense before he begins evaluating his own attractiveness versus Tadashi’s and having a minor existential crisis over kissing.

This is exhausting.

It shouldn’t be.

“This sounds like a bad anime…” Tadashi mutters. “They usually fix things with some swapping machine or magic or true love’s kiss…”

“None sound particularly helpful,” Kei deadpans, although his mind sticks on that last one.

“You don’t feel like suddenly becoming a magical girl?” Tadashi dryly asks.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well, we still have to try _something_ ,” Tadashi says. “I’ll spend the night again? We should just… replicate it, I guess? What all did we do last night…”

That’s the biggest confusion: there wasn’t anything that happened the night before that was out of the ordinary. Granted, their new relationship had led to a bit more fumbling with tiny things—how close to sit, too much eye contact—but nothing actually _happened_. They did their homework, watched a movie, ate too many snacks, then went to bed at a shockingly reasonable hour.

Now they’re stuck like this.

They head back to Kei’s house and slink past Akiteru without incident. Kei wishes he didn’t have to avoid his brother during one of his rare visits, but they have little other choice for the time being.

Kei locks the door and lets out a relieved sigh. Tadashi is already leaning against his desk, looking pensive and a little wary. “What now?”

“I guess we just go through the same stuff.” It doesn’t sound like a fix, but last night hadn’t sounded like a problem, either. “Unless you have a body-swapping machine in your backpack,” he flatly adds.

“No, just _your_ homework.”

“We have the same homework, Yamaguchi.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll do it for you. C’mon, sit down.” Tadashi pats the chair next to him, though he’s not sitting, either. There’s tension in his frame that Kei can’t place. Kei sits, just so Tadashi will too, and Kei can’t help but notice how close they end up together. Their thighs almost touch.

Not much homework gets done.

Hardly half an hour passes before Tadashi fidgets one too many times. “What if this doesn’t work? The whole repeating everything?”

“It was _your_ idea.”

“But what if it doesn’t work?” Tadashi repeats. “We should have a backup. We should try _something_.” Tadashi only gets antsy like this when something is weighing on his mind, and Kei has an idea of what it may be, though he doesn’t want to address it first.

So he remains silent, only making the tiniest hum to acknowledge him.

“We could do something… different,” Tadashi continues. Kei inclines his head. “Just, um, one thing. Trial and error? I’m worried that if we don’t do anything then we’ll go through this again tomorrow, and I don’t want to get any more spikes to the face.”

“Maybe if you learned to block,” Kei mumbles.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tadashi replies with such perfect timing that Kei can only gape at him. Irritatingly well-played. “It’s _your_ noodle limbs that keep throwing me off! Noya-san is going to come for you soon if you don’t shape up your serves, though.”

Kei is _well_ aware of their ticking time bomb of swapped skills. “Then what do you propose we do?”

“I think we should kiss,” Tadashi says, still firm and determined and Completely Serious. “Don’t give me that look—you’ve been staring at my face all day—”

“ _My_ face.”

“—and in the closet you were leaning in!” he finishes with a blush. (Kei has always flushed so easily.) “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to try out something new?”

“I’m not against that,” Kei replies. Tadashi doesn’t ask which he’s not against; a pity, because his pout is turning less adorable and more frustrated. Kei musters what little sensitivity he has and forces out, “Do you really want your first kiss to be with _yourself_?”

Because _yes_ , absolutely he has noticed the tension between them. Since they started going out, increasing on its own with each accidental touch or too-long look, exacerbated further by today’s mess—he’s nearly up a wall with the need to just _end it_. Kissing Tadashi would be nice on its own, but mainly he wishes for the hurdle to be over and done with.

Then, hopefully, future kisses won’t be such an endeavor.

“We don’t have to,” Tadashi tells him, backing off not because of his own shyness but because of Kei.

And that’s not something he wants. “We could,” Kei says with a level of eagerness he usually reserves for describing Hinata. “We can’t make this any worse for ourselves.”

“You want to?” Tadashi murmurs, only half a question; his eyes immediately go down to Kei’s mouth. Kei thinks he nods, but mostly he wants to stay an easy target for Tadashi, who has begun to lean toward him.

As much as he wants this (he _really_ , really does), it’s indescribably weird to see his own face tilting toward him. Kei has to close his eyes, which only heightens his nervousness.

There’s a long moment of only darkness, then a tentative press against his lips.

His first thought: _Weird_. His lips are chapped. Tadashi must have been chewing on them, licking over them in his own nervousness. The kiss is a little too wet, too, considering it’s a quick, soft, closed-mouths deal. He can feel Tadashi’s breath on his cheek. Kei opens an eye to check on things, and finds that Tadashi’s eyes are screwed shut, too.

They lean away and both of them open their eyes to stare at each other.

“It didn’t work,” Kei deadpans. He’s still staring at his own face (combined with Tadashi’s wide-eyed disappointment).

“We can try again,” Tadashi offers.

They do.

It still doesn’t work.

 

\--

 

Kei wakes, too warm, to Tadashi’s limbs wrapped around him. He sighs, wishing he could fall back asleep, but there’s hot breath against his neck and his feet are sweating, tangled up in the covers along with Tadashi’s.

He scowls, bleary-eyed, at the mop of dark hair pressed up underneath his chin.

Wait.

He blinks, but his vision does not clear, and neither does the other stir. Kei swallows and tries to free an arm from the freckled threat; he slithers halfway free, retrieves his glasses, and double-checks himself with his phone. That’s _him_. _Finally_.

He isn’t sure what happened, outside of a switch back in the middle of the night. Why? _Who cares_. Right now, he’s too utterly _relieved_ to question it. “Yamaguchi,” he murmurs and prods his shoulder. No response. “Yama—Tadashi,” he corrects, with a shake, and finally he stirs.

Tadashi peeks up at Kei for a long moment, then closes his eyes again with a sleepy sigh. “Good…”

“Can I have my body back?” Kei asks, almost amused, and Tadashi kindly relaxes his hold on him—in favor of winding his arms up around Kei’s neck and dragging him back down, on top of him this time.

Eyes still closed and seeming mostly asleep, Tadashi pecks him on the mouth. “If anyone asks, _that_ was the first kiss.”

“…Fine,” Kei agrees, knowing his face is red, even if Tadashi is doing him the mercy of not looking at him. “Can you let go of me—again—now?”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not,” Tadashi agrees with the pleased smile that’s wholly his. Kei finds himself mirroring it, anyway.


End file.
